I’ll tell you basically what I told Lucilla.
I mean, I told her less personal details, mostly just the facts. The facts I wanted the government to know anyway. Alright, maybe I fudged some of the details.
Okay yes, I lied to them, I’ll admit. I can’t say I killed Mathews, Reitlin and the others, of course, so I lied.
But as I promised, I won’t lie to
you.
So here’s what went down.
April 12th 2088, 1 Hour before the Apocalypse Notification.
It was that particular godforsaken, buttfucked, goat-lover of a day that things started popping off. And where it started—for me at the very least—is when I was at work in the Veltech lab, and I got the phone call letting me know my brother had died.
I was working on Dr. Branderton’s neutrino detector tanks. I had just about finished, actually. Handling the grunt work in the lab really wasn’t that hard, and it didn’t exactly take a lot of thinking. I wanted to get it done fast and then make it into the breakroom to get a head start on my classwork for the week.
I had a lot to do to maintain my classes and have a job there at the same time.
Working at Veltech as an undergrad was more or less just my day job. At nineteen I was only 3 years away from receiving my degree. But, I realize this makes me sound like I’m bragging, and I know you really don’t give a shit about how great my life seemingly was before this all started.
You want to hear about the incident, I get it.
So, I was in the lab checking the large, nearly forty foot tanks when Michael interrupted me. He came in wearing his lab coat and casual jeans and t-shirt underneath. He wasn't usually a adherent to the dress code. His unkempt brown hair and partial facial hair was also another indicator of exactly that.
“Hey, there’s a call for you at the front, something about the military?” His tone was uncertain, confused. When I turned to look at him, I saw his face was scrunched up in a way that told me he had no idea what was going on.
I checked my watch, seeing the time was a little too early for my brother to be calling. In those days, we tried contacting each other every other day or so, and he would ring my work number once he was off the clock in the military service.
“Huh, okay thanks,” I hung the clipboard I was holding on the hook in front of the tank station and walked toward the exit. “Cover me here will ya?”
I was gone before Michael could give me an answer. I left him in the lab looking like a gaping goldfish that had been dropped outside his water bowl.
The security guard was behind the desk when I walked into the lobby. I gave him a nod when he gestured to the phone sitting off to the side. I scooped it up to my ear with an easy smile. “Hey bro, you’re calling early today, you guys get the day off?”
“Hello, is this Mr. Pierce?” The voice on the other end was not my brother.
“Uh, yes that’s me. How can I help you?”
“Hello, I am Captain Garner with the New States Armed Forces, I am calling because I have some news for you.”
Now, in holomovies and stories it’s said that when these phone calls happen, the person receiving them always somehow knows the truth before they actually say it. There’s just some sick process in our brains that puts everything together. A pattern recognition system that doesn’t give a damn about the actual impact of the information it’s about to tell your brain. It just tells you and leaves you to handle the crushing reality that follows.
With that said, I can tell you that this common story telling trope is real. Even before the Captain on the end of the line began talking again, I knew what he was about to say. The words reached my ears but my brain had already entered a daze.
“I’m so sorry Mr. Pierce. I understand you must be shocked by—”
“How did it happen?”
I cut him off before he could start giving me condolences and platitudes. Those fake ass phrases of “I’m sorry for your loss”, “If there’s anything you need”, blah blah. That’s all just bullshit really, and I didn’t want to hear it.
“I’m sorry Mr. Pierce, I can’t divulge—”
“Tell me what happened,” I left no room for argument in my tone, and there was no way that he would deny me.
I had learned by the time I had reached adulthood, that I was rather different than most people.
Now, I get that at this point you’ve already made some assumptions about myself, given all that you’ve been told. Such as that I’m a sociopath, that I’m an evil man with no emotional attachments and no morals. I can tell you, that is not true.
I have morals, I have emotions, loved ones, and feelings. I sympathize and empathize with the people around me. But, I also have a very unique problem in my brain…
I can choose not to give a single dust covered fuck about any of that.
Let me be clear, this no-fucks-given brain mode that I have is more like a switch that is flipped than a decision that is made, and honestly, I don’t fully understand it myself. It was something I had ever since I could first form memories.
It’s a switch in my mind that pushed away all the bullshit that held other people back. Things that made them hesitate, and overthink. Things that made someone feel fear, and lock up in the face of danger, at the confrontation of mortality.
Can you imagine living as a child, growing up with the ability to simply not fear death? Yeah, it was difficult in its unique ways.
Again, I’m sure you don’t really quite give a shit about that. I’m still the guy responsible for two million corpses. I still murdered Barry. But once more, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Anyway, at that particular moment, my switch was on. I learned that as a side effect of that, my demeanor and my voice changed in ways that made other people react… differently. Even if my tone was still nice and sweet, and a smile still plastered on my face, apparently something about me clued people in that something was not the same.
So, when I made my demand, even over the phone, things were different than when any other person made such a demand.
“I, uh, there was an incident.”
“No fucking shit, what incident?”
He paused again, something people often did in these situations. He was no doubt trying to figure out a choice between rationality, and sheer instinct. I knew which would win.
“A reading, indicating a nuclear explosion in the immediate area, was picked up at the time. All signals connecting to the Ion-gear worn by him and his squad have been cut off. I’m sorry sir, there is simply no way that—”
“That will be all captain. Thank you.” I hung up the phone before he could finish.
Work was still in full swing, as it was only early afternoon. But, I walked out of the lobby, and out of the building, without looking back. I’m sure I was already in my car and driving out of the city before poor Michael realized that I wasn’t coming to take my position at the tanks again. He owed me a mountain of favors anyways, so fuck him.
The drive to my parent’s house was only about thirty minutes. They lived close to the city simply due to proximity to the Veltech Labs building. They both also worked there—sort of, they were officially retired but workaholics know no such thing—and their middle aged asses hated long commutes.
I’m sure, given what I just told you, the idea of me being a nepo-baby has now entered your mind. After all, if my parents worked at Veltech, and I worked there, one can only assume.
And you would partially be right. But as I said, I was already on my way to a PH.D. And, given my many other accolades growing up, I doubt my parent’s position actually made any difference. At least that’s what I told myself sometimes. Even if they dragged childhood me to all those galas and parties to rub shoulders with politicians and millionaires. Maybe the company my family kept made it so hard for them to notice what was so different about me?
When you are friendly with actual, real-life sociopaths, and interact with them so damn often… well.
But that didn’t explain it entirely, I could tell that my brother knew, or at least noticed something as we grew up, after all. And he spent his formative years rubbing elbows with those same people my parents did.
Shit, I’m going on a tangent again aren't I?
Anyway, it took me thirty minutes to drive to my parent’s place.
I pulled into the driveway quickly and was out of my car before I even turned the damn thing off. I didn’t bother knocking as I entered, opting instead to go with the Cosmo Kramer approach, throwing myself inside and using the door to keep upright.
“Oh Adam!” My mother, Candice Pierce had her arms around me before I had finished stepping inside, no doubt having heard me pull up the drive. My mother was a slight woman, a petite frame of five feet and some change. In her early fifties, she still had a lot of energy. Her dirt blonde hair was something that myself and Alex hadn't picked up.
“We just heard, we thought you’d still be at work,” my father, John Pierce, added from the living room. I looked over to see him standing in front of the fireplace. My father wasn't a tall man, about average in height at five foot seven. He was the one who passed down that dark brown locks that I, myself, had. As well as the piercing green eyes. He stood with a picture frame clutched in a shaky hand.
I knew the picture immediately, it was from my high school graduation. It was me, and Alex, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. We were both graduating that day, actually. Adam and Alex Pierce, the two top ranked students at Juliette High. We both looked so young, and so naive that day.
You might know that I loath looking into mirrors. One might assume that, after everything I did, it’s because I can’t stand to look at myself. That I just can’t manage to look at my own face because of the guilt, that I can’t fathom the monster I had become. Now, me hating to look at myself, that’s true, but the reason why is wrong.
I can’t manage to look in a mirror, and look at my face, because I can’t stand the idea of looking at the face of my brother.
My twin brother.
Yes, quite the fucked up situation that is, right? Grief does weird things to people and everyone handles it differently. For me, I can’t seem to look at myself in my own goddamn eyes without seeing him. So from that point forward, mirrors became something that no longer existed in my world.
That wasn’t the biggest change from that day though. Far from it. That day, everyone’s life changed far more than just one lost sibling, or son, or daughter, parent, whatever else someone may have lost. I know I’m not the only one who lost someone, and I won’t pretend to be. After that particular day, you probably lost far more than I did, and I might even have been the reason for it.
But at that moment, looking at the picture held in my father’s shaky grasp, is when it all happened.
Across the entire planet, for every person all at once, the pop-up was the same.
[ Earth Integration Initializing…
Preparation phase beginning…
Full integration will occur in 364 Days, 23 hours, 59 minutes.
Good luck! ]
Then, all hell broke loose on Earth.
1.04 Welcome to the Show